


been swinging around

by starknjarvis



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Kickboxing, Teaching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22310053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starknjarvis/pseuds/starknjarvis
Summary: Dick has been teaching kickboxing in Bludhaven. Jason comes by to see what all the fuss is about.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 406
Collections: Dick & Jason, everybody loves dick





	been swinging around

It had taken years for Jason to learn the Manor again. Its structure was the same as it had been when he had first been adopted, but its personality had shifted. For Dick, it had been a mausoleum. For Jason, a museum. Now, it was a damn zoo.

Literally, sometimes. A dog had greeted him at the front door before Damian had called him back. There were books on the hall table, all wrapped in library plastic and stamped with the GU logo. One of the paintings in the hall of a long-dead Wayne had been replaced with a street painting from Europe. From Stephanie’s loud laugh and an array of cartoon sound effects, he assumed some of the kids were in the living room, watching something.

He stepped over a pile of sneakers by the kitchen door. He was searching for Alfred, who was obviously not there. If he had been, the sneakers would have already been secreted away.

“Have you seen Alfred?” he asked as he walked into the room.

Dick and Tim were sitting at the kitchen table, dividing a pile of scones.

Jason strolled forward to snatch one. Blueberry.

“He’s in the library, last I saw,” Dick said.

Jason hummed and bit into the scone. It was fresh and crumbly, with just a hint of tang from a lemon drizzle. One thing he had missed when he had denied himself the Manor was Alfred’s cooking. Even when he had found a few more ties to his sanity, Jason had not become a great cook. In his safe houses, he mostly survived on deli meat sandwiches. Hey, they had protein.

“Seriously, Dick,” Tim said, picking up the thread of their conversation while Jason went to grab a glass of milk to go with his snack. “You’re taking an unnecessary risk.”

“Bruce doesn’t care.”

“Bruce forgets that _I_ figured out who you were based on your acrobatics,” Tim said. “He doesn’t give people enough credit. You’re distinct. And now you’re becoming Instagram famous.”

“He’s what?” Jason laughed, pulling the milk from the fridge.

“See, not that famous,” Dick said.

“Jason doesn’t have any social media,” Tim pointed out.

“I died during the MySpace era,” Jason said. “By the time I got back, I was the only one free enough to see you were all being brainwashed. Besides, what name would I put on Facebook? Jason not-really-dead Todd?” He poured his glass and put the milk back. “What are you doing to become famous? Shirtless pics?”

“Basically,” Tim said, and Jason nearly spit out his first sip.

“Dickie,” Jason said. “Please tell me you haven’t become a thirst trap.”

“You won’t get a Facebook but you know what a thirst trap is?”

“Dick has been teaching kickboxing at a YMCA in Bludhaven, and every person who goes there has to post a selfie with him. The comments are…” Tim shuddered. “So much talk of sweat and biceps. When Bruce put me in charge of monitoring the social media tides for the Waynes and Bats, he couldn’t have known what he was signing me up for. I’m supposed to be making sure no forum is putting together our identities or impersonating one of us.”

“Kickboxing at the Y?” Jason scoffed. “Seriously? Is it all girls who want to drool over you and nerds trying to become Goku?”

“Your anime references are decades out of touch,” Tim said.

Dick kicked back in his chair, balancing on two legs. “Teaching regular people to protect themselves isn’t a waste of time. Not everyone is cut out for being a Robin. I just want to make sure they can throw one good punch before I get there. Besides, it’s a good workout.”

Jason laughed. “Next you’ll be teaching…. What is it called when a bunch of white girls try to dance to Latino music?”

“Zumba?” Tim offered.

“Seriously, it’s a good program, and they needed extra hands. Wayne Enterprises has made the gym access free, and they’re overrun. You should come by sometime, see for yourselves.”

Jason shook his head and drained the last of his milk. “Maybe for a laugh,” he said. “I’m off to find Alfred. Don’t post any selfies while I’m gone.”

#

One night a few weeks later, Jason found himself in Bludhaven. Dick had not wanted to alert Bruce yet, but there was activity moving that he wasn’t sure he could handle on his own. Since Jason didn’t tell Bruce anything he didn’t have to, he was the perfect person to call in.

After they took down the drug cartel, Jason crashed on Dick’s couch. In the morning, Dick cajoled him into sticking around for a kickboxing class.

“You voluntarily get up early on weekends for this shit?” Jason grumbled, watching Dick bounce in place in the fridge while he shook up a protein shake.

“I do some classes before work too,” Dick said.

The room at the Y was filled with heavy bags dangling from hooks in a grid around the room. With mirrors on every wall, it seemed like an infinite maze. Jason settled beside a bag at the back of the room and wrapped his wrists, watching the rest of the class filter in. Dick stood by the door to greet everyone, and seemed to know most by name.

It was a weird mix of people. There were a few men close to Jason’s age in sweats and worn wraps that could have done more serious fighting. Then, a group of college-age girls came in, high ponytails swishing as they chatted. One glanced over at Dick, and then pulled her shirt off to reveal a pink sports bra. Her friend nudged her, laughing. A few couples came in, setting up bags beside each other. There were even a few older women who wouldn’t have looked out of place at the PTA. Probably also there to ogle Dick.

Jason rolled his eyes and started stretching. Might as well get a workout out of this. It had been a while since he’d done anything as mundane was work on a heavy bag. Now that he was back (mostly) with the Bats, he spent more time sparring.

Dick started the class by introducing himself and them going through six basic punches. Jason continued stretching while the rest of the class drilled, trying not to watch the woman beside him insulting the concept of a right hook. She would break her wrist if she tried to punch like that with any real force.

Once he was satisfied—even correcting the form of Jason’s neighbor—Dick ran them through a simple cardio warmup. A pop song blasted over the speakers, threatening to give Jason a headache. He shouldn’t have agreed to such an early class. He did the squats and lunges and sit-ups at Dick’s instructions, heartrate unmoving. The rest of the group had finally settled down, and were handling the warmup with various degrees of grace.

Then, they started to shadowbox. Dick knew how to set a task for the beginners and give options for the more advanced people to work harder. With the pounding music and the constant new combinations, it was hard to get bored, even for Jason. The energy in the room wound up over the next hour, higher and higher until everyone was sweating and bouncing on their toes between punches.

Dick shouted encouragements as gloves hit the heavy bags—some barely swaying, and some nearly spinning off their hooks.

Jason ignored the rest of the room, letting himself focus on the bag under his gloves. He also ignored half of Dick’s instructions, punching how he wanted whenever he didn’t like the suggestions. By the end of class, he had to wipe his own brow.

“Thanks, everyone! If you have any questions, let me know!” Dick said. He moved back to the door to say goodbye as people left. Everyone in the class was red-faced and smiling. He had expected the girls, at least, to ease off the hits to they could stay fresh to impress Dick. Instead, their hair was stuck across their foreheads, and they were drinking from their water bottles desperately.

“Great job,” Dick told one, and she beamed at him.

Once everyone was gone, Jason sidled up next to Dick. “What did you think?” Dick asked. Even after shouting for an hour, he was bright-eyed and grinning. He seemed more energized than ever.

Jason shrugged. “None of this would help anyone in a fight. It’s like glorified dancing,” he said.

Dick snorted. “Don’t be an ass. You had fun.”

“Real opponents don’t stand still.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dick said. “Growing strength and endurance can’t help anyone.”

Jason grunted and admitted, “At least they won’t be breaking their own thumbs trying to throw a punch. I didn’t think they’d take it so seriously. Everyone was working hard—as hard as they could.”

“Not all of them do, but almost everyone is here because they want to be. They want to work off the stress of their lives, or get stronger, or train between other sports. It’s a good outlet. Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy.”

“Happy people just don't shoot their husbands,” Jason finished.

“I knew you were paying attention during Legally Blonde,” Dick said.

“It’s a good movie.”

“Look, these classes get people moving, gives them a break from things, and maybe stops them from putting that stress somewhere else—like shooting their husbands. And it’s fun. Now, come on,” Dick said, clapping Jason on the shoulder, “throw on a sweatshirt and we’ll go get breakfast before you go back to Gotham.”

#

After that, Jason left Dick to his classes. He got the value for the average citizen. Hell, he wished some people in his neighborhood had an outlet that healthy. Maybe it would keep more angry kids out of the gangs.

Still, when Dick asked him to come back to Bludhaven for another class, Jason declined. He didn’t need to commute an hour for a work-out class wearing gloves covered in the sweat of a hundred boxers past.

Tim continued to complain about Dick’s newfound social media fame, though the buzz seemed to be dying out now that Dick was a regular feature of the gym. The Y’s attendance had gone up from the attention, and Dick refused to give it up.

He did, in acknowledge of the security risks, leak a video of him losing a sparring match to Tim. Jason filmed the match, cackling behind the camera as Tim took Dick to the ground. Dick said that he had thrown the fight, since he wasn’t supposed to show his real skills, but Tim gloated for weeks.

Jason woke up one day a month later to his phone ringing. Groggy, he answered, “’Lo?”

“Hey, Jason,” Dick said cheerfully.

“God, what time is it?” Jason asked.

“In Gotham? Noon,” Dick said. “Geez, were you still asleep? Where are you?”

“My room. I have blackout curtains, because I’m not a monster,” Jason said. “What do you want?”

“The Y just called me. The substitute who is covering my classes while I’m in Atlantis with Aqualad—though they think I’m in California—called out sick. The other sub they sometimes call is in Florida with her children. They’ll have to cancel the class.”

“Okay,” Jason said, closing his eyes and pressing his face into the pillow. “What does this have to do with me?”

“Go teach it for me. Please. Pretty please,” Dick said.

“They can just cancel it,” Jason pointed out. “It’s at a free gym.”

“This is the one we run just for kids at Bludhaven High. They won’t have other plans for getting home after school, and a lot of the kids are doing really good work. I don’t want them to miss a chance to be consistent.”

“Why me? You’re related to half a dozen martial arts experts.”

“Who have never been to a class and have no idea how to run one.” There was a muffled noise on Dick’s end of the class. “Shit, I have to go. I’ll tell them you’ll be there.”

“They could just take the bus home!” Jason said, but the line was already dead. “Fuck.”

He debated leaving Dick out to dry—when had his siblings started thinking they could call him for shit like this?—but in the end, he got dressed, grabbed his gloves, and hopped on his motorcycle. The distance to Bludhaven wasn’t far, but with the early afternoon traffic, Jason rolled up to the gym just before class started. A harried receptionist greeted him and sent him to the same room Dick had taught in before.

The kids came in a crowd right before the clock hit four, jostling each other and shouting comments across the room. They seemed to have usual bags, and several gave Jason suspicious glances when they noticed him standing at the front of the room. He busied himself adjusting his wraps until everyone was near their bags, and then went to close the door.

“All right,” he called. The chatter didn’t stop. “HEY!”

The room quieted and two dozen high schoolers turned to look at him.

“I’m Jay, and I’ll be teaching this class for your slacker teacher,” he said. “I don’t put up with fucking around, so stay focused. If someone knocks themselves out, I’m not taking the blame.”

He made his way back to the front of the class to the demo bag. Some of the kids stared challengingly as he passed, and others looked away. One girl wearing wide glasses smiled shyly, and he gave her a quick wink.

“All right,” he said. “Let’s go over your six main punches. Get the basics out of the way.”

It was clear the group had been coming to Dick’s classes for a while. There were some mistakes in form, the kind amateurs always had, but they knew the essentials. There were the straight punches, the ones meant to pop an opponent in the nose before they could blink. In worse shape were the uppercuts, the low angle for the gut punch too low for comfort. Then there were the hooks, the power blows that hit the side of the head and put people down for the count.

“Come on,” Jason called. “The uppercut should go right under the ribs. Imagine your biggest enemy in front of you. You hit them in the gut, they won’t be able to breathe.”

“Faster!”

“Keep your wrist straight. You’re going to snap your own wrist before you even hit your opponent. Put all that power through your knuckles, not into your own hand.”

“Pop those punches and duck. What, you think they’ll just let you hit them? Hit them hard, hit them quick, and then get out of the way.”

“Seriously, you’re all shrimps—your goal should be to incapacitate someone long enough that you can run.”

The room smelled of sweat and leather, and the kids were whaling on the bags with more energy than they had at the start. Jason was using Dick’s usual playlist, since he hadn’t had time to make a better one, and the thumping bass was egging them all on. They had stopped talking to each other. There was fire in their teenage eyes.

“Hell yeah, guys!” Jason said. “Knock their fucking lights out!”

He ran them through the workouts Dick had done, and a few more besides he thought they’d like better. He introduced them to a gloved burpee, which they did with all enthusiasm and no skill before he sent them back to the bags.

The girl with the glasses was red-faced and panting. Class was nearly over, and her punches had slowed dramatically. Setting the class a series of power hooks, he trotted over to her bag. “Come on,” he encouraged her. “Hit it with some force!”

She flushed deeper and tried to hit harder. Her glove slipped off the front of the bag, nearly hitting Jason’s chest. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“You’ve got this,” he said. “Seriously, hit it hard. Don’t worry about me. Don’t worry about anyone. Imagine you’re at the end of a fight. You’re weak, but so is your enemy. You just need a few more good shots to knock them out and get away. You can’t slow down now.”

She gritted her teeth and slammed a fist into the bag.

“Yes, you’ve got it! Knock the stuffing out of that bitch!”

With a grunt, the girl hit the bag again, and it was sent rocking from its chain. She hit it again when it swung back toward her, and the sound of the glove on the leather was as sweet as it had ever been.

“Hell yeah,” Jason said, and ran back up to the demo bag.

The hour passed quickly. The playlist shifted into something soothing, and Jason ran the room through some stretches. “You guys kicked ass today,” he told them. “Drink a lot of water and keep loose—you don’t want to cramp at the end of all this. That’s the worst.”

When he opened the door, he held out his hands to fistbump the class as they walked past. “Don’t forget—in real life, you’ll want to go for the eyes. Without gloves, you can use your nails,” he said cheerfully.

“Thanks, Mr. Jason!” said a boy.

“Thanks,” the girl with glasses said, tapping his fistbump. Her face was still red, but she was beaming.

“He’s _so_ much cooler than Mr. Dick,” said another boy to one of his friends as they packed their gym bags.

#

“What did you do to my class?”

Jason rolled his eyes, taking a sip of tea. He was sitting with Alfred in the Wayne Manor kitchen when Dick walked in. “I taught them, as requested,” Jason said. “I’m still waiting on my paycheck, by the way.”

“It’s a volunteer role, dumbass,” Dick said.

“Master Richard,” Alfred chided. Dick apologized, and Alfred nodded toward the plate of cookies on the table as a sign he accepted it. “What class is this?” he continued.

Dick grabbed a chocolate chip cookie and munched on it. “Kickboxing in Bludhaven. Jason covered for me while I was on a mission last week.”

Alfred hummed thoughtfully.

Jason shrugged. “They just needed a warm body. I’m sure I didn’t fuck them up irreparably. Sorry, Alfie,” he added before Alfred could scold him.

“You didn’t f—mess them up,” Dick said. “They loved you. They’re obsessed with you. I’ve never seen a class look so upset to see me. You know, _I_ used to be their favorite.”

Jason barked out a laugh. “For real?”

“Apparently they liked learning the five best places to hit someone to make them vomit with pain,” Dick said.

“Master Jason,” Alfred said.

“I did tell them to only use it when absolutely necessary,” Jason said. “I didn’t spoil their innocent minds. They need to know this stuff. I wish I had when I was a kid. They won’t kill anyone with it, but maybe it’ll help them someday. It’s not like I’m trying to create a child gang.”

“I’m not mad at you,” Dick said, rolling his eyes. “I’m _jealous_.”

“What?”

“You’re a good teacher, Jay. They loved you,” he said. “If you lived in Bludhaven, you might be offered my job.”

“Well, you’re lucky I don’t,” Jason scoffed. “They’d only be so lucky.”

“I’d fight you for it. You get it, though, right?” Dick insisted. “Why I do it?”

“Yeah,” Jason admitted. “I do. Those kids shouldn’t end up in masks, but we’re not the only ones with stuff we need to beat out of our systems. And my job would easier if more people knew how to throw a punch.”

Dick nodded, satisfied, and accepted another cookie from Alfred. The conversation changed to humorous stories about Dick’s colleagues at the police station, and Jason sat back and listened. He flexed his hands, remembering the gym-issued bag swinging under his fist, and the room full of eager teens.

#

“Not you, too.”

Jason paused mid-pullup, tilting his head to see Tim standing on the mat in his own workout gear. In the tight clothes, it was obvious that even if the kid seemed like a shrimp beside Jason or even Dick, he was not Red Robin for no reason. Maybe someday, his growth spurt would stop pulling him vertically and let him fill out a bit.

“What are you on about?” Jason asked.

“Don’t you have another gym to be at?”

“I’m sparring with Cass later,” Jason said, resuming his pullups. “Though I don’t need an excuse to be here, asshole. This gym is for everyone.”

“I’m talking about this!” Tim said, waving a phone in the air.

Jason didn’t stop his workout. “I’m not playing, Tim.”

“At least it’s not a selfie, but come on—Dick was bad enough.”

“Let me see that,” Jason said, dropping to the mat and taking the phone from Tim’s hand. It was a blurry picture of Jason at the front of his new classroom, black gloves on and mic attached to his ear. In the dim lighting, he looks like the unholy combination of a mafia enforcer and a Soul Cycle instructor. “I told them no phones in class.”

“What are you doing? I know you’ve heard me yelling at Dick often enough.”

Jason tossed the phone back to Tim and shrugged. “I don’t base my decisions off your paranoia, kid. Jay Wayne is the least popular Wayne kid in the tabloids. I keep out of the paper, unlike some people who became CEOs before they could vote. I don’t think anyone’s even noticed.”

“If you’re not doing it to drive me crazy, then why? You don’t like teaching.”

“Actually, I used to think about becoming a professor,” Jason mused, blinking. “I had forgotten about that. I wanted to teach English. I might have even told Bruce, at some point, before…” He shook his head. “Come along some time if you want to see, little bird. I don’t owe you an explanation. Bags are cheap, though I’d make you buy a spare for compensation for having to put up with you.”

“Dick’s gym is free,” Tim said.

“Yeah, well, I picked the cheapest one I could find in Crime Alley. The ones covered by Wayne Enterprises in Midtown are fully-staffed. You pay the teachers enough to compete with the bougie places. They don’t have that in Crime Alley.”

“WE is always looking for new ways to help the community, you know,” Tim said. “We could expand the program.”

“I thought you wanted me to quit?”

“Well,” Tim said. “Maybe if you _and_ Dick think it’s worth it, it might not be all bad. It’ll at least be an excuse why you’re in such good shape. No one will think that Red Hood and Nightwing moonlight as gym teachers. I could barely believe it.”

“Dick occasionally has good ideas. Occasionally.”

Tim hummed. “Maybe I will stop by, if you really don’t care.”

Jason shrugged. “Come through on that offer to help the gym and you can get a bag on the front row.” He winked. “Bring some gloves and some water, and I’ll teach you how to really throw a punch.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Tumblr](http://starknjarvis27.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
